


Take Off Your Dusty Boots

by eeyore9990



Series: Wild West Sterek [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Outtakes, Saloon Girl Stiles, cowboy derek, garter belts, silk stockings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2151696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Badwolfbadwolf said: <i>Stiles in black lace panties.  Stiles in a garter belt, struggling to snap in the stocking, looking all flushed and proud when he finally gets it and stands to give a little twirl.  Stiles in lingerie. </i></p><p>An outtake from Dusty Boots and Saddle Sores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Off Your Dusty Boots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> For Badwolfbadwolff who posted this today on her [tumblr](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com): [Stiles in black lace panties. Stiles in a garter belt, struggling to snap in the stocking, looking all flushed and proud when he finally gets it and stands to give a little twirl. Stiles in lingerie. ](http://badwolfbadwolff.tumblr.com/post/94927624814) with these tags: #this has been a psa #stiles stilinski #boys in lingerie is like my thing babe #god eey write more of stiles in saloon girl outfit with stockings please god #teen wolf
> 
> I mean, the way I see it, that's a direct challenge. Right? :D

Stiles skidded into the room he rented from Boyd, kicking at his boots until they flew across the room, one toward the bed, the other toward the wash stand. He watched, paralyzed with dawning horror, as his boot _hit_ the wash stand, causing the pitcher perched there to wobble dangerously before it settled back to the top of the wash stand with a dull thud. As soon as he knew he wasn't going to have a loud, sharp mess to clean up, Stiles' hands were moving again, ripping at his clothes in his haste to get them off.

Once he was bare as the day he was born, he dropped to his knees and dragged the box — with Wells Fargo stamps all over it and a smudged address that showed it had originally been intended for one Erica Reyes — from under the bed, lifting the lid with shaking hands.

Just as had been the case when he'd opened it that morning, assuming it to have been for one of the local women who'd died in the recent cholera epidemic, the tissue paper that covered the contents stuck to the lid. What it unveiled still had the power to catch Stiles' breath in his lungs, even though he'd spent more'n ten minutes earlier just running his fingertips lightly over it. It was all black lace stretched over blood-red satin, sheer scraps of silk and a garter belt that made Stiles' tongue feel two sizes too big for his mouth.

Maybe he was taking a chance — hell, he _knew_ he was taking a chance — but he was leaving town in the morning to track down the Argents, so if things went sour, he wouldn't have to stick around to suffer the fallout. Plus, the way _Derek_ had stared at him like a drowning man seeing a tall drink of water earlier… he was pretty sure he'd be all right.

Perching his ass on the side of his bed, Stiles raised his foot and carefully eased the silk over his toes and up his legs, letting a hissed breath escape him as the silk caressed every inch of his skin on the way up. He'd already been half-hard, just from the sheer beauty of Derek's entire being, but now his cock was definitely close to standing out stiff and hard from his body. When he pulled the silk stocking as far up as he could, he realized he'd miscalculated. With nothing to hold it up, the stocking just sagged right back off his thigh.

A frustrated growl ripped from his throat — he didn't have _time_ for this, he could hear Jimmy's clomping footsteps on the stairs already. Digging back into the box, he pulled out the garter belt, staring at it, willing it to make sense to his befuddled mind. He twisted it this way and that until the straps all seemed to make some sort of sense, then he stood, heedless of the stocking that licked down his leg to pool at his ankle. Wrapping the belt around his waist, he carefully latched all the hooks in place, then spent a precious second admiring the way the black straps framed his hips and groin.

Goddamn, that was pretty.

Quickly tugging the stocking back up, he fumbled with the satin-covered buttons that held up the slippery material, before pulling the other stocking on. Pleased, he stood up and faced his warped mirror, turning around to see the whole picture.

The black straps traced down over the swell of his ass, drawing the eye to his crack, while the top of the stockings highlighted how pale and pink his flesh was. Spreading his thighs slightly, he watched in the mirror as his balls came into view, framed so pretty between his silk-covered legs.

"Goddamn," he muttered, dragging his fingers over his skin and pulling his cheeks apart. He couldn't really see his hole in the mirror, it wasn't clear enough for that, but he could imagine it. Imagine how he'd appear to _Derek_. And hot damn if it wasn't a pretty fucking picture.

When he lifted the dress out, he noticed for the first time that the tissue paper lining the bottom of the box was still rucked up, looking like it was covering up something else. Laying the dress on his bed, he lifted the tissue paper until he could see… two heeled slippers, black with tufts of what looked like feathers across the narrow strap that went over the toe. Not daring to hope, he picked one up and slipped it onto his foot.

It didn't fit, not really. His foot sort of bulged off the back and his toes were mashed uncomfortably together, but he could feel his thighs and ass tightening up in new ways and he knew… he had to wear these too.

Cramming his foot in the other shoe, he swore at how long he was taking before he pulled the dress down over his head. It went on his thin frame easily and settled around his narrow hips. Tugging it until it looked to be in the right position, he pulled on the satiny strings until the dress cinched in tight. And then he pulled some more, oddly delighted at how it held him in, pressed on his ribs until he felt his breaths coming shorter, less easy.

One final touch, and then he'd be ready.

Striding toward his wash stand, he nearly busted his ass, only the brass rails of his bed frame stopping him from ruining his entire outfit and likely breaking every damn bone in his body. Remembering the damn slippers this time, he eased his feet forward, only gingerly settling his weight on the heels, until he got to his wash stand where the tub of rouge some long-ago occupant had left behind still rested.

He stuck his finger in the tacky red stuff, and then squinted into his mirror as he smoothed it across his lips. It probably looked like shit, but he couldn't bring himself to care, because even in the warped glass of his mirror, he could tell that he looked good enough to eat.

Smoothing his hands across his satin and lace covered belly, he steadied his nerves before prancing toward the door, head held high and shoulders back. Oddly, it seemed to be the way to keep his shoes from trying to murder him.

The hungry, _needy_ look on Derek's face when he saw Stiles standing in his doorway… Yeah. If this whole Deputy thing didn't work out, Stiles felt pretty positive he could find himself a lucrative career as a saloon girl.

**Author's Note:**

> This was not actually anywhere in my notes for this series, ahahahaha. In fact, i was totally working on my rare pair fic when I happened across this post on Wolfie's tumblr, so. It's her fault. Blame her.


End file.
